Wizard's Duel
by Pretty Vacant1
Summary: The new teacher goes walking and meets a familiar face along the way...fluff, pablum, drivel ensued by hotness.
1. The Walk

In a bout of insomnia, Agatha Peale had been pacing about the castle every night for three weeks. She had been pacing up and down this particular corridor for no less than four entire evenings and had yet to encounter anyone, save for the portraits on the wall, and all of them were snoring soundly. Her idle walks about the castle were isolated and lonely—being a new professor, she knew very few people her own age, save for her students, who seemed to like her style of teaching.

She gathered from some of the older students that the man that had held her position before had been a "greasy git bastard"—put into words by an enthusiastic, then blushing fifth year. Agatha had seen the man whose place she had taken leering at her in the Great Hall during all possible meals. At first, she had been nearly frightened of his angry stares, but she had adjusted and wasn't quite as uncomfortable. She found comfort in the fact that her students thought her to be the best Potions professor they'd ever had, and she was especially kind to them when the "new" herbology teacher, Professor Snape, gave them many rolls of parchment on a decidedly minute, insignificant and remote concept relating to wizarding flora. Her students said this was less out of a desire for learning and more out of spite. She believed them to be correct.

Agatha rarely bothered with the_ Lumos_ incantation as she paced the halls. She knew her way by now. She walked endlessly, thinking with her dressing gown clenched tightly to her, rarely looking up and breaking her concentration. On this particular evening, she was contemplating teaching her fourth years a potion to temporarily change the color of the drinker's skin—the _Colorare-Corpus_ potion, and her seventh years a similar, but more difficult potion that gave the same results, but with a pattern instead.

She had just begun to make a mental list of the ingredients she needed to gather from the store room when she collided headlong with something decidedly human. She brandished her wand, shouting _"Lumos!"_ and pointing it in the direction of the figure she had collided with.

"Oh, come now, Miss Peale," the figure said in a droll, almost bored voice. To her extreme dismay, his wand was in the same ready position and probably more accurately aimed than her own. And, to make matters worse,, she had collided with none other than Professor Severus Snape.

"No need for all this wand waving, Madam..." he continued. Agatha noticed he made no motion to drop his wand.

"Professor Snape," she stammered. "I didn't know..."

"I know...I've followed you for the past several evenings. Your insomnia is almost as great as mine. Although mine is the result of my...recession to herbology..." he said, drolly but pointedly, smirking menacingly.

That was it. He was going to attempt to oust her out of her position by intimidation. His stupid smirk said all she needed to hear. The unease she felt was justified, and she was angry.

"Now you listen, Mister—Professor Snake—"

"Snape," he snapped in correction.

"Snape. You can't intimidate me—"

"Keep your voice down, Miss Peale. Need I remind you that it is forbidden for students to roam the hall at night and inadvisable at best for...professors to do the same?"

He was trying to goad her and she knew it. His smirk cracked into a rancid, half-smile.

"Then, why, Professor Snape, are b you /b roaming the halls?"

The smirk faded.

"Now you look here, Miss Peale. I strongly advise against making enemies so early in the term and in your career. You never know—"

"You can't frighten me!" she shouted back, re-raising her wand to his chest.

"Then don't act frightened," he sneered back, attempting to pluck the wand out of her dangerously steady hand between his forefinger and thumb.

"You don't seem intent on conversation but rather a lengthy duel, Miss Peale," he said, nonchalantly.

"Are you challenging me?" she asked reluctantly.

"Why ask me? You're the one with the wand pointed at my throat," he replied coolly. The smirk had returned.

"Then, challenge."


	2. The Duel

"Accepted. Terms?"

"Only to disarm. No alteration of appearances or anything irreparable—"

"You're an old hand at this—"

"And—if I win, you leave me alone. No sideways glances, no chance meetings in corridors, nothing. I don't exist to you. Acceptable?"

"Yes. And if I win, you relinquish your position. _You _go to herbology and_ I_ return to Potions. Understood?"

"Yes," she replied quickly, then gulping as she fully realized the extent of the proposal.

They shook hands and stood back to back, putting their wands at the ready. Snape counted off ten paces and shouted—

_"Relegare mantellum!"_ as she screamed _"Expelliarmus!"_

Agatha felt her robe being ripped from her back. His wand didn't even flicker in his hand but he cocked his head to one side and smirked, this time even more satisfied than before.

Furious, she aimed her wand again and shouted, _"Asportare!"_ dragging Snape rapidly across the floor by his heels and knocking him into the wall, jarring his breath.

_"Relegare bracae!"_ he mustered and once again, Agatha's pants went flying from her, joining her robe. He then began to cackle before breaking out into a hearty laugh. Noticing she was nearly naked, she dropped her wand and covered her chest. He raised his wand, still spread-eagled against the wall and said, "Match."

"Oh, you damnable man! You're not being fair!" she howled in frustration, stomping her foot. She had no clothing, a loathsome job, and a man mocking her misfortune.

"I obeyed the rules you laid out, madam..." he said, silkily as he stood and approached her. She scowled and turned so her back was to him. Under normal circumstances, she may have begun to cry, but she was at a loss for both words and tears.

He gently came up behind her, carrying her clothing in his hands.

"Here," he said shortly, passing them to her unceremoniously. She took them and held them to her chest.

"When will we tell Dumbledore?" she sniffed, trying to get back to the business at hand.

"There's no need for that..."he said, softly.


	3. The Confession

"I may be harsh but I am no sadist. I didn't play fair, so, I lose," he said. The smirk had vanished from his face and he seemed to be speaking in earnest. Under normal circumstances, Agatha wouldn't have been entirely convinced. Regardless, an instant relief dropped all too quickly from her shoulders, as well as her clothing.

"Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou!" she screeched, jumping into his arms in a most undignified manner that shocked them both. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clasped him in a tight embrace; she then realized that she was nearly naked, and that a distinct bulge was pressed into her stomach. She gasped and drew away; her mortification was twofold.

"I-I-I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to gather her clothing and hope to salvage any vestiges of dignity she might have had. Snape blushed red. She couldn't tell if it was arousal or mortification.

He stood silent, staring at her with the same uncomfortable stare typically reserved for the dinner table. However, she realized that the stare wasn't one of utter loathing, but rather one of lusty admiration. For reasons then unknown to her, she shrunk back against the wall, dropping the ball of her clothing and making no effort to cover herself.

"You've discovered my secret, Agatha," he said hoarsely. She nodded quickly, never breaking eye contact with him. Snape stared her in the eye for a few second before blinking and motioning as if he was going to turn and quickly run as to avoid further embarrassment.

"Wait—"she said, grabbing for his shoulder. He turned in time to meet her mouth in a bruisingly hot kiss. He moaned, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her towards him awkwardly. Her hands went to his neck and ran up the back of his skull, pressing her breasts to his chest and her pelvis against his. Snape kissed down her neck and dropped his face in between her breasts while reaching up to grasp her hot flesh as his hot breath curled across her stomach. As his hands kneaded, he flicked his tongue over her erect nipples, eliciting a moan from her.

"I hope to hear more from you," he said almost viciously from between her breasts between kisses and licks. She suddenly pushed him back against the wall. Before he had time to protest, she was on her knees in front of him, her hands yanking at his soutaine of a jacket. He moaned and entangled his hands in her hair, closing his eyes and savoring the wait for her next action.

Agatha didn't bother to pull his pants down. She merely undid only the necessary buttons, reached in and grabbed his hard prick in her soft hands. As he moaned, she stroked him several times before swirling her tongue around his head, catching him off guard. After that precious moment of contact, she pulled back and smirked in a feline manner. Upon opening his eyes, he saw his prick scant inches from her mouth and couldn't resist pressing the head to her moist lips. She delivered a few kisses before tickling the slit with the tip of her tongue and then wrapping her lips around the head again, savoring the masculine, salty taste. He moaned and braced himself against the wall, wanting to keep from thrusting himself down her throat until he came, but decidedly doing a poor job. He used her hair to gently guide her mouth up and down until she abruptly pulled her mouth off of him completely.

"Don't you dare," he moaned, thinking of the precarious position he was in—exposed and leaned up against the wall in a most un-Snape-ish manner.

She smiled seductively and stood back, lowering her panties to her ankles and then kicking them into the relative darkness of the hall. She pressed herself against the wall and waited for him.


End file.
